Marla Shift
by hajikurazaki19
Summary: Just what happened to turn Marla Shift into Marluxia? A sideshot to The Nobody Virus. Currently in production. Rated M for a fricken reason!
1. Marla Shift

**Hello, to all. Haji here with a wonderful sideshot to The Nobody Virus. That's the story DeadShut and I are writing together.**

**I found Marla Shift's character so interesting, I just had to write a little story about it. There is actually another part of this. Stuff that happened befor here, though it isn't entirely written down. My mind just flew into a frenzy when I thought about developing his character. I just wanted you to understand him a little bit better.**

**It's about Marla Shift, the person before Marluxia. Hope you guys love it. I will write another chapter to this if people request it. I need at least three. It might cover what happens directly after this.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

"This is bullshit, babe."

Marla Shift was waiting for him. His father. Chris Hart. The man who had rescued him from his childish hell, and introduced him to something much worse. Right now, the prick was on the phone with God knows who, trying to secure his pussy for the night.

_That's how he always was. _Marla thought. _Always in pursuit of the almighty vagina._

He absently touched his own genitals, cringing when there was nothing there. He stood on the other side of the bedroom door, thinking. There was only one bedroom in the house, and Marla was in no hurry to join the devil on the other side. He sighed deeply.

Over the many years Chris had taken care of him, he was more and more often losing touch with reality. Instead, choosing to create his own. One where he was the master and everyone else was just a toy. He was pleased to revel in his own fantasies, but he could never pleasure himself. That was the one thing he wished he could do.

He would never feel the satisfaction of dominating over anyone, whether male or female. And since he knew he could not feel these sensations, he never really developed a sexual attraction to anyone. Except Jaclyn.

Marla shook his head and pushed his memories to the side. The TV was on, and Marla could hear the sound of the news. There was a woman speaking. She sounded appalled.

_Tragedy struck in the downtown Metropolitan area today as the bodies of two young teenagers were discovered by their parents. The bodies of Jason Ferrell and Jack Garrett were uncovered, bound and gagged in the south side of Central Park. It appeared they had been suffering from hunger for days before they were brutally cut and sodomized with what appeared to be gardening equipment. Their parents were taking a leisurely stroll when they stumbled upon the deposited bodies…_

"Sick fuck," Chris grumbled. He flipped the station.

Marla felt numb inside. They found his bodies. He hadn't disposed of them properly. He silently cursed himself, but relished in the way they were found.

"They deserved it," Marla whispered.

"Marla?"

Marla opened the door to the bedroom. "What, Chris?"

Chris was lying on the bed, petting the space next to him. "Come."

Marla hesitated, but he closed his eyes and placed his mind elsewhere. He lay down, curling his legs and hugging his knees. Chris turned out the light.

"Guess what tomorrow is," Chris whispered. He ran his fingers through Marla's dyed pink hair.

Marla shuttered, wishing he could take that hand and cut it off with a spade. "Tuesday?"

Chris pulled him closer. "It's your birthday. You know what that means."

_Another visit from Moe Lestor, I bet._

"I can't wait to find out," Marla muttered. He could feel the beginning of an erection touching his back. _Oh, fuck._

"I love you, you know that, right?" Chris said, his fingers preparing to get a better grip. "I would never to anything to hurt you."

Marla tensed. He knew a fight was about to break out. He was already in a position of weakness. He was curled up, he was right next to him, and he was too tired to really fight. He had been busy the past couple of days.

"I want to do something to you."

Marla felt the familiar tears form. "Please, don't." He had to play the part. If he didn't, it was going to be worse for him. It was better for him, and his asshole if he just pretended to resist.

Chris was about to flip him over when the phone rang. Both Marla and Chris looked up slowly. No one had ever called them this late before. Marla stood up, pulling his arm free. He approached the still ringing phone, and picked it up.

"H-Hello?" Marla saked.

"Hi, is this Marla?"

Marla instantly recognized the voice. "Jaclyn?"

"Hi, I'm sorry I'm calling so late." She paused. "It just took me forever to find your number. You didn't give it to me when I asked for it. I thought you were just in a hurry."

Marla's heart fluttered, then it dropped like lead when he realized that he had to escape. It had been on his mind for a while, but he had never had any kind of idea on how he was going to escape Hell's Kitchen. Then, it dawned on him.

A sudden panic overcame his soul. "Jaclyn? I need your help."

"Who's there, Marla?"

"Just a bill collector," Marla called. "I'm working on it."

Jaclyn sounded concerned. "What's wrong?"

Marla let the tears flow. He hadn't been this scared in his whole life. He knew now that he had to get out. Or he was going to go crazy. "I need your help. Please, I need you to come to my place. Right now!"

"What's going on?"

"I just need you to help me escape." Marla said quickly. "I can't take it anymore. I just need you to understand. Please, help me…"

"Marla?"

Marla froze as Chris stood in the doorway. Marla swallowed, screaming into the phone. Chris lunged at him, but Marla had regained his fighting vigor, and threw his weight back. This caught Chris off guard. Marla landed on top of him and instantly rolled off and crawled away, trying to reach for the phone. He could hear Jaclyn on the other end, crying his name.

"Jaclyn!" Marla shouted. Chris grabbed his foot. _The address. All she needs is the address._

"Jaclyn!" Marla was trying to keep Chris from choking him. "Thirteen! Eleven!"

"Shut up!" Chris whispered sharply.

"North Wellington—"

Chris crawled over him and ripped the cord out of the wall. Marla gasped as he failed. He had tried to escape, and he failed. Chris huffed angrily and turned on the spot. Time seemed to slow down. Marla's mind was racing.

_Run._

Marla leapt to his feet, but Chris was already upon him. He grabbed a fistful of hair and dragged Marla across the kitchen floor. Marla struggled, trying his best to free himself. He knew his punishment was going to be much worse.

Chris pushed him back into the bedroom. Marla snarled, but clamped his mouth shut as Chris pulled his pants down.

"Open," he commanded.

Marla shook his head quickly. "Fuck you!" He spat. Then he shut his mouth again.

Chris roared and wrapped his fingers around Marla's throat. Marla held his ground for quite awhile. He didn't budge, but he could fell the blood leaving his brain, and his face grew hot.

"Open your mouth, motherfucker." Chris grunted.

Marla wanted so badly to die of strangulation, but his body's thirst for life betrayed him. He held on for the last few seconds, but he gasped loudly, sucking in as much air as he could before Chris shoved his dick down his throat.

Marla gurgled, trying to pull away. But Chris kept him in place, moving back and forth, stealing the last of Marla's dignity. Marla groaned, but he didn't dare bite down. He knew if he did, he wouldn't live to see another day. As much as he detested his adoptive father, he closed his eyes and teleported himself to a better place.

But, as Chris's groans turned into satisfied moans, something tainted the last part of Marla's mind. The place that kept him sane grew dark. Rolling clouds of self loathing and mental breakdown decayed the last brick of happiness that kept Marla under control. The last string of pleasant thoughts snapped, and a haunting new cycle of thought formed.

_The Guide to Serious Serial Killing_

_By_

_Ned Mitchell_

_Congratulations! If you are reading this book, you have decided to become what society deems a monster. You are about to start preparing for the last thing you will ever be known for. You should feel proud of your accomplishments, for you have already taken the first step by picking up this volume. Take the time to pat yourself on the back. Now, there are very specific instructions detailing the use of this book. Because anybody can choose this profession, I have set the chapters up as follows. All men shall read the first chapter, then every odd numbered chapter afterwards. All women shall read the first chapter, then every even numbered chapter afterwards. Do not ever deviate from the planned chapter for you, or you'll be unsuccessful in your attempts in this wonderful new world. With my guidance, you will not fail. But, you must remain adamant and faithful to the book. You may now move forward. I wish you luck in your endeavors._

Marla flipped through the book that he knew cover to cover in his mind's eye. He had read those life changing words when he was just twelve years old, and up until now, he had only thought of those heinous acts in his murder fantasies. But, today was a new day. The beginning of a new life. A new…obsession.

_Chapter Eleven_

_You should take another step back from your constant planning and thoughts to enjoy what will be your first 'registered kill'. Your first registered kill will be the one defining moment in your career. Once you decide to take this exciting step forward, you will never gain be able to return to your previous life. In the last chapter, you were instructed to identify your 'Rock' and your 'Hard Place'. These are the two steps you must take before you can achieve your freedom. In the face of hard times, you must remain adamant._

Marla growled, sending a wave of pleasure through Chris's body. Chris moaned deeply, filling Marla's mouth with cum.

_You remember who your 'Hard Place' was?_

Marla tried to pull away, thinking his torture was over. He glared at Chris as he leaned away. Chris panted, but his posture was unwavering. He wasn't going to let Marla go.

_Kill them._

Marla paused, thinking for just a moment. Did he really want to take this next step? Did he really want to change his life forever? Did he really want this kind of freedom?

Marla had only thought about it for a second. Chris was still thrusting violently. Marla hummed, accentuating his pleasure. Chris groaned.

"Marla, I'm about to—"

But Marla didn't wait for the next wave of disgusting bodily fluid. He smiled, fooling Chris into thinking he was enjoying every bit of his punishment. He felt Chris seize up, and he struck.

He gnashed his teeth together, causing Chris to squeal in a pitch high enough to crack glass. He backed away, but the pain tore his insides apart. Marla had chewed off Chris's manhood. Blood spurted everywhere. Marla stood and threw the dead organ at Chris.

"I've had enough." Marla growled.

Chris kneeled before Marla, crying and writhing in agony. "Please, Marla. Stop! I'm sorry!"

Marla stopped his advancement. "You're sorry?" He smirked.

Chris breathed shallowly. The loss of blood was really starting to affect him. "I'll never…"

Marla shrugged dramatically, "I promise I won't do it again, Marla. I love you, Marla. Please, Marla…"—he dropped his voice to just above a whisper.—"moan my name."

Marla spat in Chris's face. "You are my Hard Place, Chris. You, who knows nothing about preserving child innocence. I would've never been this way if you didn't stake your claim like a sick fuck!"

Chris shivered as Marla grabbed a small nest of thick-growing ivy. "Beg for your life, love."

Chris struggled against the thick coils of the parasitic plant. They fell into the kitchen. Marla stood behind him, making sure he could not grab him and decide to get revenge. Chris flailed his arms, and choked out angrily.

Marla, realizing that the vines wouldn't hold their own for much longer, Marla reached behind him, hand searching for something sharp. Anything sharp.

He grasped a kitchen knife. It was dirty, but he held it to Chris's throat. "Shhh…"

Chris instantly quieted and stopped moving.

"Say my name…" Marla whispered.

Chris babbled softly.

"Say it, Chris."

Chris shook his head. Marla pushed the knife into his skin. He was getting impatient. Chris was crying. The tears rolling down his cheeks were more real that his disfigured genitals. "Please…Marla."

Marla smiled. "Sleep tight." And he slit Chris's throat.

The splash of blood on the tile calmed Marla almost instantly. His mind eased to a serene insanity. _Step one complete._

_Chapter Thirteen_

_If you are reading this chapter, you have successfully completed step one of your freeing process. You have rid yourself of your 'Hard Place'. This must feel like a huge relief, but you are not finished. The next step is to rid yourself of your 'Rock.' You must kill them. Soon. Or the effects of your first exercise will wear off. Your 'Rock' is the only thing keeping you from continuing your career. You love and/or respect this person beyond a shadow of a doubt. You lean on this person when you are down, and you go to them when you are in your time of most need. This may sting when you first lay your eyes upon them as a victim. This second step may take hours, days, or even weeks. But you must act quickly. Remember, every person is different. But, you must free yourself. It is the only way to true clarity. Once you are free, you may continue with your life as planned._

Marla smiled. He rubbed his head and spit out the last bit of seminal fluid. He was covered in blood, but he wasn't finished. He had to make one stop. He crawled along the tiled floor, slipping slightly when he passed Chris's lifeless body. He reconnected the wire to the phone and pushed redial.

The phone rang.

_It's time to design your M.O._

"Hello?"

"Jaclyn?"

"Marla?"

Marla paused. "Could you come over?"

Jaclyn was quiet for a long time. It almost sounded like she was thinking about it. "I'll be right there."

Marla hung up the phone. He sat in silence for a while. His thoughts were reconfiguring themselves. Then, something clicked, and he giggled. It was patient, snide, and dripping with venom. He was a monster now.

He was a serial killer.

* * *

**The suspence must be killing you. Again, I would write another chapter if it's requested. Three is the magic number.**

**Has a nice day. :)**


	2. Procter's

**Hey, I wrote this chapter a while ago, but I scrapped it. I'm actually writing Marla Shift as a novel for NaNoWriMo, but I changed so much stuff in it. I just thought this would be a nice little extra one shot that I could add. This goes way back in Marla's life. It's short, but, I hope you enjoy it. I finally got three reviews, though the third one was not given as a review to t his story, but as a private message.**

**As a side note, I can't believe how much I've been writing lately. I feel like I've been neglecting my first story, which is almost finished. I think I have two chapters left before the epilogue. I feel so bad that it's been a week and I haven't even touched Krystahl. I'm going to write about it now, though I'm like working on a bajillion other things at the same time. Multitasking is so tough. But, the next chapter of The Nobody Virus is almost here. Rejoice.**

***Le sigh* I think that's it.  
**

* * *

He was a young boy. Maybe twelve years old when he was finally done jumping from orphanage to orphanage. Nobody wanted to keep him for very long because he was damaged goods. Everyone couldn't, or wouldn't try to get him adopted. Many of the patrons thought that he was a little girl. After all, he did lace flowers through his hair. And he did cry when boys would tease him. There was no way he was an actual boy.

Oh, but he was.

His name was Marla Shift. When he was born, his father was so disappointed to see a little penis. And his mother, who was so proud to have a beautiful baby, died in childbirth. Before she exhaled her last breath, she made Marla's father promise to take care of him. She didn't ask for anything else, though she probably knew that her husband had wanted a daughter.

And he kept his promise. He took care of Marla. Made sure that he went to school and learned his numbers and colors, but that was about as far as he would go. He did not hug his son, kiss him, or give him any kind of praise or boosts in confidence. He could only tell him how much he had wanted a daughter.

"That's why I named you Marla." He told him once. "Because you were supposed to be my daughter."

Marla never thought that his father didn't love him. He was utterly convinced that he had the best father in the whole world. Because, to Marla, care equaled love. And that was it.

Marla was fearful of his father. He would cower when his father yelled at him. He would cry when he was hit, and he would pretend to be a loving daughter, just so his father could be happy. But, it never worked. It only seemed to make his caregiver more and more agitated.

Until he snapped.

Marla had just turned three. He was playing by himself in the small garden that his mother had when his father rushed out of the house. Marla could see he was angry, but he did not run like his instincts were telling him to. He thought that it was just another day. Just another episode of anger and hurt. Something that he could let go if he closed his eyes and wished it wouldn't hurt so much.

Unfortunately, he was not prepared for what happened. Even though he wished his father wouldn't hit him. And he would cry when he was supposed to, and cower weakly, he was still brutally disfigured.

He father, in his blind and unexplainable rage, took a spade from the garden, and proceeded to rip the only thing that identified Marla as a boy—his genitals—off. Marla had never felt so much pain in his whole life. He screamed louder than he had ever thought possible.

And his father left him there.

The neighbors heard the commotion, and hastily phoned the police. They had not seen what had happened, but they could tell that the screaming was much worse than it usually was. Much more bloodcurdling.

Marla was almost gone when an army of policemen and ambulances arrived at his front door. His father hadn't run. He just sat there, waiting for his son to die. He muttered his wishes and prayed until the very end that his daughter would run up to him and hug him. He squeezed what was left of Marla's budding boyhood in his hand until he was forced to the ground by three disgusted cops.

Marla was never the same.

"We welcome you to Procter's, Marla."

Marla, now twelve, nodded slowly, keeping his eyes away from the dumpy nun that led him throughout his new orphanage. His hair was long, wavy, a light brown. His smile, gentle. He was obviously trying to appear like a girl from the get go. Probably so he wouldn't endure another round of fearful boys taunting him because of his…deformity.

The doctors had fixed him, though. He could still function properly. He could still pee while standing up, and he was still able to produce all of his bodily fluids. He just did not have a penis. It wasn't so bad. But maybe that was nothing but pure optimism. The silver lining to an otherwise black cloud.

"Marla, how old are you?"

Marla lowered his head. "It was all in the paperwork, wasn't it?"

The nun smiled. "Yes, but you are never going to feel at home unless you speak, sweetie."

"I'm twelve."

The nun raised an eyebrow. "You are awfully well behaved for someone so young. I thought you were a little older."

Marla frowned. He already didn't like it here.

"I believe we have an empty bed for you with Jason and Jack." The nun walked into the room farthest away from the front door. "Ah, yes. You can sleep in here."

Marla hugged himself as he entered the room. The nun had ushered him in and coughed loudly. There were a small group of boys sitting in the corner shooting each other with rubber bands. Marla was instantly intimidated by them. He could see they were bigger than him. And meaner.

"We have a new boy," one of the boys said snidely. "Sister Francis, there's no room in here for him."

The nun, Sister Francis, scowled. "I can see there is one empty bed, Jason. You stop being such a bad influence. You need to be nice if anyone is going to bring you into their home."

Jason scoffed, "I was thrown away. If anybody wanted me, I've would've been outta here years ago."

Sister Francis sighed deeply. "Well, this is Marla Shift. He will be staying here now. In this room." She pushed Marla forward and swept away.

Jason instantly turned to Marla. "So, you're a boy, huh?"

Marla nodded. "I…"

"You sure as hell look like a girl." Another boy said. Marla assumed this one was Jack.

Jason crossed his arms. "Sister Francis wouldn't have brought him in here if he was a girl." He glared at Marla. "So, you straight?"

Marla didn't really understand the question. He had been asked this several times before. The last time he answered no, he had been tormented nonstop. He thought about it for just a second before he unwrapped his arms from around his shoulders and stuttered a quick, jittery "Yes."

The boys laughed. Wrong answer.

Jason motioned for Marla to join them. He was smiling, and when Marla was close to them, he put his arm around him. "Listen, Marla Shift. You are the new boy. Which means you need to go through an initiation if you want us to respect you. Got it?"

Marla nodded.

"You are young. What twelve?"

Marla nodded.

"Well, we are thirteen. Which means we are wiser than you. Smarter than you. Bigger, tougher, stronger. And if you don't listen to us, you will get beat up. That sounds reasonable, right?"

Marla did not agree with this one bit, but he was much more concerned with his own self preservation. If that meant being embarrassed and physically abused by his peers, so be it. He was used to it anyway. He nodded.

Jason grinned devilishly. "You see, we do a lot of experimentation here at Procter's. Me and my buddies have already tried this wonderful thing."

"What's that?"

Jason leaned in closer. "It's called masturbation."

Marla had never heard of that before, and he hadn't gone to good enough schools to learn about words that big, or even how to use a dictionary to find out about them. He sighed inwardly. It sounded very much like a dirty word. But it was more that the way Jason said it that made him uncomfortable than the word itself.

"You don't look like you know what that means."

Marla was reluctant, but he shook his head, and paled when the boys erupted into fresh peals of laughter. He had a feeling that this wasn't going to end well.

Jason shushed the boys and pated Marla on the back. "Don't worry, buddy. At one time, we didn't know what it was either. But, we sure were quick to find out." He flashed a smile. "Here, let me show you something."

Jason guided Marla to his bed. He bent down and fished underneath for something. Marla relaxed a little. Jason and his friends seemed nice enough. They had not beaten him up on first sight, which was a great improvement from Second Chance Children Homes. Jason was talking to him while he was searching for whatever it was he was looking for. Marla hadn't been paying attention, but he snapped out of it when Jason stood up.

"Here," Jason said. He handed Marla a brown bag. "You should know what to do with this."

Marla opened the bag. There was a slightly torn magazine inside. "What am I supposed to do with this?" Suspicion was creeping up on him. He was starting to not trust Jason again.

Jason giggled and pulled Marla closer. "Just look at these pictures and…you know."

Marla shook his head.

"Just rub your hand over your dick. Gently. You'll know what I'm talking about. But, be quiet. Sister Francis will freak if she catches you."

Marla should have known better than to trust a single word Jason said. Though, it wasn't entirely his fault. Marla went through extraordinary measures to keep his deformity a secret. He couldn't bear the though of having other people in general know what tragedy had befallen him in his toddler years. And now he was about to go through what he was sure was supposed to be normal for any boy his age, without the key component to the equation. He didn't have genitals.

Marla prayed to whatever god would listen to him as Jason pushed him into the bathroom and closed the door. Marla panicked. He couldn't fulfill what it was that Jason wanted. He wasn't able to touch himself. He had no idea how he was going to pull off this act without revealing his flaw. He put his ear to the door, listening to hear if Jason was still in the room. He could hear stifled conversation. They were all sitting in the corner again.

Marla thought if he stayed in the bathroom for a little while, he could pretend that he was doing what Jason had told him. He mentally stabbed himself, thinking that he could have had a semi normal stay in this orphanage. But, no, never in a thousand years could he just walk somewhere without having to sacrifice his dignity.

Never in his life.

Marla searched his mind, trying to figure out a way to save what little self esteem he had, while still earning some respect. He sat on the toilet seat, holding his face in his hands. When his mind drew a blank, he choked out a weak sob.

_At least I'm alone. _He thought bitterly.

There was a sudden knock on the door. Jason was on the other side. He sounded worried.

"Hurry up!" he hissed through the door. "Sister Francis is coming."

Marla jumped at this opportunity. He turned the water on in the sink and washed his hands. Jason knocked on the door gently and opened it up. Sister Francis was on the other side. Marla guessed she had assumed some sort of horrible punishment had befallen him, but she smiled when she saw he was fine.

She was the only one in the whole orphanage who knew his secret.

"See," Jason said. "We would never pick on the new guy. We're just teaching him stuff. Like where the bathroom is. And how it works around here."

Sister Francis patted Jason on the head. "It's nice to see you take the initiative, Jason. You shall be rewarded."

Jason beamed, and as soon as she left, he shot Marla a look of pure hatred. Marla cringed. He knew it was too good to be true. It always was.

Soon enough, it was time for bed. Marla crawled into his assigned bed and pulled the covers over his head. He couldn't say he felt an overwhelming sense of misery, but he most certainly wasn't feeling loved, or even tolerated. He hadn't been harmed yet. But that was all going to change in the morning.

He just knew it.

Marla woke up alone. The other boys had let him sleep in. They were probably eating breakfast, talking about him. Laughing at him. Planning their next move. It was the same routine.

Marla crawled out of bed. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. He was afraid that Jason would have taken them, or at least ordered someone else to. Probably Jack. Marla rubbed his eyes, clearing them of the tears that he must have cried during the night and snuck into the kitchen.

As suspected, Jason was sitting at the table with Jack. They were leaning close to each other. Marla could hear their harrowed whispers. They looked at him when he entered, but ignored him quickly.

_Sister Francis didn't tell them, did she?_

More kids rushed past him, knocking him out of the way. They swarmed around the table, grabbing their seats like savages. They must've have been avoiding something. Marla took the last available seat, which was rickety. He then knew why the others had avoided it. It was uncomfortable, it rocked back and forth, and made an obnoxious squeal. Marla wanted to disappear. He face burned red.

"It's okay, everyone has to sit in that chair."

Marla glanced to the side. A girl was sitting next to him. She was smiling. Marla turned redder, but not because he was embarrassed.

"I'm Rosie," the girl said. "I'm the oldest one here."

"How old are you?"

Rosie giggled and twisted a lock of red hair in her fingers. "I'm sixteen, but it really is too late for me. Nobody wants a teenager." She sighed. "But, I think there is something out there for me. I stay hopeful."

Marla smiled. "You're very pretty."

Rosie laughed, "Thank you…"

"Marla."

"Marla." Rosie held out a hand. Marla shook it gently.

"Good morning, children."

All the children quieted and folded their hands. "Good morning, Sister Francis." They chanted in unison.

"We are all going to welcome our newest edition, Marla Shift."

The children all looked at Marla. "Hi, Marla."

Marla sank in his seat.

"We will be nice and respectful, and we will not…" she looked at Jason. "Cause any trouble."

Jason nodded, looking as innocent as ever, though Marla could feel his scheming radiating off of him. To him, this was a challenge. And to Marla, he had to figure out a way to prepare himself. He had a feeling that Jason was going to attempt to start a secret war. A war of personality. A war of dominance.

A war of treachery.

* * *

**Ah, yes. A little more background information on Marla. I hope you sympathize with him. I really did try to make him a character you could feel bad for, even though he becomes such a monster, as you can see in The Nobody Virus.**

**Tell me if I achieved that. And if not, tell me how I could. I really want some feedback from you guys. I can't just get better at anything if no body gives me any advice.**

**Has a nice day. :)  
**


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